The Baby Carriage
by wtchcool
Summary: Having already achieved love and marriage, although not necessarily in that order, Peter sets his sights on the next step. Finally installment in the BIOTP 'verse. Pence baby, but not m-preg.
1. Chapter 1: Rumor Has It

"The Baby Carriage"

By Wtchcool

Disclaimer: I kind of doubt the owners of "The Cape" would've taken the series in this direction (although it would've been a great idea, no?) Nor do I own Deveraux's backstory, but more on that in the author's note.

_Chapter One: Rumor Has It_

Peter Fleming pulled up short when he walked into his office and saw Vince Faraday's form leaning against his desk. A smile graced his husband's features.

"Miss me, Peter?" The sandy-haired man pulled the billionaire to him for a long kiss, promising things for later in the evening. Reluctantly, Fleming broke away and sighed.

"You're going to get me in trouble that way, Deveraux." The shape shifter frowned.

"How did you know it was me?" André René Deveraux demanded, as he resumed his own appearance—tousled dark hair replaced Vince's lighter curls and arcane tattoos became visible along his face.

"For one thing, the Cape was just photographed halfway across town."

"And what did I forget?" André folded his arms.

"And Vince rarely greets me so… affectionately." Deveraux raised an eyebrow.

"But you've been married for three years!"

"I don't have to explain our relationship to you. Besides, you're just miffed that I'm no longer available."

In reply, Deveraux grumbled something about stubborn monogamists. Peter and André had met and begun an on-again off-again relationship in the months after Fleming was widowed. Apparently, Peter strongly reminded Deveraux of his first love, Gregory.

(Actually, Deveraux claimed that he was immortal and that he and Gregory were Peter's ancestors. Peter preferred to believe that Deveraux was slightly insane, not that he would hold that against him. He didn't know a soul that wouldn't call Chess mental, not even amongst his loved ones.)

But Peter had rebuffed Deveraux's advances since his unexpected remarriage to Vince Faraday, "in the interests of self-preservation," he'd explained. Evidently, the shape shifter had trouble taking no for an answer.

"You're no fun anymore." Dear lord, he was pouting. "If you didn't invite me over for old times' sake, then why did you want to see me?"

Right; it was time to get down to business.

"Some of Luthor Corp.'s research has recently come into my possession," Peter began.

"Translation: You stole it." Peter narrowed his eyes.

"The man who commissioned the research has been dead for about two decades; the information was just collecting cobwebs. Even if it was misappropriated, it was for a good cause." He was rewarded with a snort.

"Sure it was. How could it be for anything else?" Peter sat down and just looked at him. Finally, the immortal broke the silence. "Alright, I'll bite. What did your bald Metropolis counterpart come up with?" Fleming wordlessly pushed a folder across the desk and the older man started skimming its contents.

"What the… Cloning? You want to clone yourself? Have you gone completely insane?" Peter sighed and waved a hand impatiently.

"Luthor's interest was in cloning. The clones he commissioned were never effective—replicating 100% of a person's D.N.A. resulted in unstable specimens—so he had his team look for a solution. They hypothesized that combining Luthor's D.N.A. with the Kryptonian's should result in a healthy child.

"No," Peter anticipated the question on the other's mind, "they never tested the proposition. They were unable to obtain another sample of Superman's D.N.A. before their C.E.O. passed away and afterwards the project was disbanded, all but forgotten."

"Okay, I know you have a point there somewhere, hot stuff. You want to get to it sometime today?"

"I'd have thought it would be obvious."

"Then I guess I don't think too clearly when I'm sexually frustrated: Out with it!"

"The team at Luthor Corp. discovered how to create a zygote using D.N.A. from two males. Now do you see where I'm going with this?" Deveraux whistled.

"You want to reproduce with Faraday, and you've found out how to make it possible." Fleming inclined his head.

"Correct."

"And you're telling me because…"

"While the process does not require a female to contribute D.N.A., the fetus would still have to develop in a uterus. Hence, I find myself in need of a surrogate."

"And you thought of me?"

"I need someone I can trust, someone I can work with. We certainly wouldn't bring Vince's ex-wife into this—"

"Even I can see that that'd be a bit of a faux pas."

"You did indicate that you've given birth before—"

"And enjoyed it," he interrupted.

"And are still capable of it?" Fleming queried. In reply, Deveraux shape shifted into a woman, adopting his Rebecca façade, and grinned.

"But of course!" She looked at her descendant. Funny how he trusted her abilities as a shape shifter, but refused to believe she'd given birth to an ancestor of his centuries ago. Mortals were odd like that, but perhaps it was to protect himself from the fact that he'd slept with his great-great-great, phooey, however many great-grandmother. If she had made a point of avoiding intimate relations with any of her descendants, she might have to take a damn vow of abstinence; _nope, not going to happen_.

"It would be my pleasure," Deveraux assured Peter. Then she frowned. "Vince _is_ on board with this plan, isn't he?"

**Author's Note: To clarify, this occurs in the "Blame It On the Perfume" 'verse. If you're into Pence, you may want to check out the fic's predecessors, although I don't think you'll be handicapped if you don't. If you're not into Pence, what the hell are you doing on this page?**

**Anyone lost at home may recall that Deveraux was mentioned once during the series. Hence he's not exactly an original character, but the writers didn't create a backstory for him. Enter IronAmerica to fill the gap. This fic is using IronAmerica's version of Deveraux, created for "Time Again." It involves a crossover with "Dark Relic," a movie that starred James Frain. According to IronAmerica, Max and Deveraux are both immortals who practice magic and Deveraux shape shifts. Centuries ago, Deveraux as "Rebecca" fell in love with and married a knight named Sir Gregory and they had a big family. Max and Deveraux are supposed to have a competition going between them and they employ champions to fight for them. In "Time Again," Scales would have been Deveraux's champion, but he exploits a loophole to keep the smuggler out of the competition. **

**While I recommend "Time Again", I don't want to incorporate the events from it into this fic. In this 'verse, Peter was going to be Deveraux's champion and Vince was Max's. However, the unexpected marriage between the two champions voided the round before it could get underway.**

**Now, regarding the other fandom at play here: You may recall that "Blame It On the Perfume," like "In-Laws" before it, was a cross-over with "Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman." This made my plan for Peter to borrow the technology used to produce Connor Kent in "Smallville" a bit tricky, but there was cloning in Lois & Clark. Hence I stretched things a bit so that the old series' Lex had the research at his fingertips, but didn't get the opportunity to carry it out before his death.**

**You got an issue with that, or with the ratio of fic to author's note, you can let me know. Please review. Come on, it's the first ever Pence baby fic. You've got to have something to say about it. **


	2. Chapter 2: Nobody's A Picture Perfect

_Chapter Two: Nobody's A Picture Perfect_

_Flashback_

Vince seemed down lately. (Peter would've noticed, even if Chess hadn't pointed it out, probably.) Fleming didn't think it was a coincidence that Dana and her second husband, Jack, were expecting.

Peter remembered asking Trip, before introducing the boy to his stepsister, Jamie, about his opinion of siblings. The child had replied: "_I told my parents I'd rather have a puppy_." The statement revealed more than Trip's (rather irrelevant) preference for being an only child. It meant that the Faradays, when they had still been together, had seriously discussed the possibility of having more children.

Perhaps if Vince hadn't had to fake his death—_that was your, well alright, __our__ doing, Peter_—he and Dana would've had another child by now. Or the Faradays might have gotten divorced anyway. (Vince had accepted a job offer with ARK, after all. It was conceivable Peter and Faraday would've gotten together eventually. _Bloody unlikely, though_, Chess commented.)

After his wife, Danielle, had died, Peter hadn't given much thought to the idea of having another child. He'd tried to be a good father to Jamie—

_And you buggered that, didn't you?_

Peter rubbed at his temples. Whose side was Chess on?

In retrospect, he could've done things differently with his daughter. Maybe he had pushed Jamie away. He could blame her creation of Orwell's blog on Chess, but he had to take responsibility for his own actions. He had tried to micromanage her life, had practically kept her under house arrest—all for her safety, of course. But his motivations hadn't kept her from running away.

At least they had been working on repairing their relationship over the past few years. He had Vince to thank for that. He rather doubted Jamie would have given him a second chance if he hadn't married her best friend/partner in fighting crime.

Peter could learn from the mistakes he had made with Jamie; surely he'd be able to do better if he had another child to raise. And unlike with Jamie, he wouldn't have to do it alone.

_"Alone"? Don't tell me you've forgotten about me, Peter._

Fleming snorted. As if Chess shared parenting responsibilities.

_Well, no, but I wouldn't mind being able to pass on a legacy. "Chess Junior" has a nice ring to it, don't you think?_

God; he really did need to find a new therapist. Perhaps eventually he'd be able to shut up the annoying voice in his head.

The point was that now he would have Vince to help him—

_Unless Faraday gets himself killed, but we've taught him not to take stupid risks. And we'd level the city to the ground to destroy his killer._

_ …No argument, Peter?_

…No, he agreed with the maniac on that point.

Peter could concede that Vince was a better father to his son than he had been to his daughter. The hero would never have driven his son away from him. Hell, he'd learned that the former cop had only donned the cape in the first place in order to have a means of keeping in touch with his offspring.

(That revelation had bruised his ego a bit. As the Cape's nemesis, he had assumed he'd been the hero's raison d'être. It had seemed like a logical conclusion. The Cape kept going on and on about how he would bring Chess to his knees—_I don't think he meant to give us those ideas, though_, Chess mused.)

The billionaire tried to picture bringing up a child with his husband and smiled. It was possibly the best idea he'd had in a long time (and he was a criminal mastermind, so that was saying something).

He'd better verify that Vince was amenable to having another child before beginning the adoption process. He frowned.

It did seem too bad that they'd have to adopt. If only they could have a baby that was biologically both his and Vince's… He visualized a little girl or boy having a mixture of their features. (Chess tried not to gag at Peter's ensuing sappiness.) Suddenly, he found himself wishing there was a way. Perhaps if he'd studied genetic engineering he'd be able to find a solution.

Wait. He was Peter Fleming, the CEO of ARK Corporation, the richest inhabitant and unofficial ruler of Palm City. If it was possible, he had the resources at his disposal to find out.

He could start by taking a look at the research developed by Luthor Corp. before the company had fallen to ruin. Lex Luthor had funded a number of interesting projects before his death. In fact, it had been one of Luthor's associates, Miranda, that had perfected the pheromone compound that had changed the course of his relationship with Faraday.

_I still say you might've gotten the same result by getting the Cape drunk. Although that might've been a bit tricky since you couldn't spend five minutes in the same room with him without going for each other's throats._

~PF~

"Vince," Peter began one evening. The younger man was currently sprawled on a couch in the penthouse, munching on potato chips while watching television. For a moment, Peter thought "Saving Private Ryan" was on. Then he saw some computer-generated monster come on the screen. So Faraday was watching the ScyFy network, again.

"What is it?" the security guard asked, without taking his eyes off the T.V.

"If you could have another child now, would you?" Vince spluttered, spraying crumbs over himself.

"You mean with you? Like that'd ever happen."

"Humor me. Would you want another son or a daughter?" Faraday met Fleming's eyes for a moment, before looking away.

"If things had been different," he replied after a beat, his voice hoarse. He and Dana had wanted a larger family, before their marriage fell to pieces. He tried to shrug nonchalantly. "But it doesn't matter now. No point obsessing over the road not taken, right?"

"Indeed. Much better to focus on the future and the options available to you now," Peter replied.

_End Flashback_

"What makes you think I'll sign this contract?" Deveraux asked. He'd reverted to his masculine form.

"It's just a formality; my lawyers prepared it so—"

"So that I'll give up all rights to the child and won't challenge you for custody or visitation! What is this?"

"I thought I was clear. I'm looking for a surrogate. After the child is born, my husband and I will take things from there. That's the deal. If you're not interested, walk now. I'll find someone else."

"You'll find someone as discreet as me?"

"That contract has a gag clause. Whoever signs it will be bound to secrecy."

"And you'll pressure some poor woman into signing it without consulting a lawyer first. Alright, hang on, I haven't said no. Can we talk about this? I'd be going through nine months of pregnancy and childbirth. I don't think it would be unreasonable to want to remain a part of the kid's life."

"Oh my; accused of being unreasonable; whatever shall I do?" Peter sarcastically drawled.

"At the very least, you could let me babysit. You and your spouse both have jobs—"

"Frankly, I think Jamie would be a more responsible babysitter than you. For that matter, so would Faraday's teenage son. Oh, all right. You will have the opportunity to babysit when you're in town, but if we find your performance unsuitable—"

"You won't, I promise," Deveraux beamed. "Now that that's settled," André glanced in the direction of the master bedroom, "how much time do we have before Vince gets home?"

"Forget it, André."

~VF~

_Two weeks later:_

"Vince," Peter called, as he entered the penthouse. "I have a surprise for you."

The shape shifter beside him, now in the guise of Rebecca, turned to the billionaire and frowned.

"What do you mean, 'surprise'? I thought you said he knew about this!" Deveraux hissed.

**Author's Note: First and foremost, thanks to the talented IronAmerica for designing the cover for this fic! Lovely work. IA is willing to do covers on commission.**

**And thanks to Orwell and IA for reviewing!**

**Well? Enjoying Chess' antics? Disappointed in Peter?**

**Chapter title from Kelly Clarkson's song, "Dark Side."**


	3. Chapter 3: I Wanna Shout Out

_Chapter Three: I Wanna Shout Out_

"What I said was that Vince was on board with the plan," Peter replied, "and he will be."

"WILL BE?! FLEMING!" Deveraux shrieked. "YOU SON OF A…"

"Oh, joy," Vince said sarcastically, as he entered the room, "you brought Deveraux with you." Faraday hadn't taken well to the shape shifter, possibly because of the latter's opinions on open marriage.

"Vincent, do you know what your husband has done?" Deveraux asked, all but trembling in outrage. She felt used; like she was just a pawn in one of her descendant's schemes, rather than a surrogate chosen by a hopeful couple.

"I'm sure I'll regret asking."

"Now, hold on. It was nothing bad," Peter insisted.

"Alright, Peter, what did you do? Don't tell me you got her pregnant," Vince joked. There was an awkward pause.

"If you'll just let me explain," the billionaire began.

"I'll kill you," Vince said, his tone dangerously flat. "And then," he said, turning to Deveraux, "we'll find out just how 'immortal' you are."

"He told me you knew about this!"

"Vincent, it's not what you think!"

"So she isn't pregnant?"

"She is, but we didn't have sex."

"Haven't since you two got together," Deveraux said, pouting. "But that's not the point."

"Okay, back up," Vince said. "Then who is the father?"

"About that, Vincent—"

"You are," Rebecca replied.

"Excuse me? I think I'd remember it if we'd—"

"Sweetheart, remember when you said you wanted to have another child?"

"What, you want to adopt Deveraux's child?"

"Not exactly; let's sit down," Peter maneuvered his husband over to the couch. Deveraux sat in a nearby chair. "Certain research came into my possession—"

"Do you really want to drag out this conversation in front of a moody pregnant woman?" Vince asked, indicating the shape shifter.

"Fine, I'll be brief. We've both wanted to have another child. I found a way for us to have a biological child."

"Come again?"

"The fetus that Deveraux is carrying was created using a combination of your D.N.A. and mine. Vince, we're going to have a baby."

For a moment, Vince thought Peter was having him on. The idea sounded like something out of a bad sci-fi/romance novel. Then again, so did the idea of a perfume making him realize his subconscious desire for his archenemy. In fact, compared to the fact that his husband's ex was (an allegedly immortal) shape shifter, this seemed plausible.

And Peter didn't look like he was joking.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" Vince screamed. "You complete MORON! You didn't think that was something we should discuss BEFORE you went ahead and…"

"I can see that you're upset," Peter interrupted his irate spouse.

_Upset? Peter, he looks homicidal_, Chess put in.

"But I did this for us. I wanted to surprise you. And you _did_ say that you wanted to have another kid."

"Yes, but that was in theory! I didn't mean I wanted to have one with you and… oh, god, Chess!" Vince ran his hands through his hair. The idea of sharing a son or daughter with Peter's psychotic alter ego was horrifying. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Calm down. Take deep breaths. Deveraux, would you give us a moment?" Peter asked.

"If you need me, I'll be downstairs," she replied. An apartment had been set up for her on another floor of ARK Tower. She'd stay there for the duration of the pregnancy, and afterwards, if she had anything to say about it. "Oh, and Faraday: Don't kill him without me."

"I make no promises," Vince grumbled as she left.

"Chess won't be a problem," Peter told him.

"Not a problem? He's a psychopath. He doesn't belong near children. He should be behind bars."

"Yes, well that would require putting me behind bars, so you'll have to settle for keeping him under control. Chess was around while Jamie was growing up, but he wasn't involved in raising her."

"So you screwed that up on your own."

Peter flinched. _You_ s_hould've seen that coming, Peter._

"I'm sorry, Peter. I know that's a sore issue with you, but you opened the door by… How did you even have a sample of my D.N.A. on hand? No, don't answer that. This is insane—"

"Some would say the same about our marriage." Come to think of it, Vince _had_ said the same about their marriage.

"That's different. This'll never work."

"Maybe I should've been a better father to Jamie. But this _will_ work. I know it will."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"I know because this time, I have you."

"Peter…"

"Even death wouldn't keep you from being a proper father to Trip. You'll be there to guide me, to keep me in line. We'll make it work together."

"Still has disaster written all over it," Vince shook his head.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you're not excited about this."

Vince thought for a moment before replying.

"I am," he said, a smile finally crossing his features. It was just starting to dawn on him. _Oh my god, we're having a baby. _"I do want this baby. But I'm still nervous about it and… Seriously, Peter! Did it even cross your mind that couples should discuss having a baby first and agree on it instead of one going off and acting unilaterally? Yeah, I know, you said you wanted to surprise me. A baby isn't like a surprise party, Fleming! You don't just jump out and spring one on someone!"

"You're right." Peter braced himself. "I apologize. I'll keep that in mind next time…"

Vince thwacked him on the arm.

"What 'next time'? We haven't even had this one yet. I don't think we should start planning more."

"The next time an important decision has to be made then," Peter rephrased. "I'll be sure to consult you first."

"Good. What on earth possessed you to use Deveraux as a surrogate? You know how I feel about her."

"I needed someone we knew; someone we could trust."

"And mentally stable was too much to hope for, I suppose?"

"You're the one that actually takes her claim of being my ancestor seriously."

"Yeah, well, haven't you noticed that Jamie looks like her? You haven't? I thought it was obvious."

_So __**that's**__ why Jamie thinks Deveraux is creepy. _

"Assuming you're right, Deveraux might have intentionally…" Where was the aspirin or the whisky, for that matter? "Let's change the subject."

"Fine; oh crap."

"What is it?"

"I just realized. Peter, we're going to have to break this to the kids." _That should be fun._

"Shall we talk with them one at a time or both at once?"

"Better make it both at once. This isn't a conversation that I'm going to want to relive. As a matter of fact, maybe you could tell them and…"

"So you won't have to participate?"

"Well, you didn't seem to think it was important for me to participate when our child was being conceived—"

"Guilt will get you nowhere, Faraday. Don't forget who you're talking to."

"I hate you."

"You could have divorced me at any time during the past three years."

"I still might."

"If deluding yourself allows you to sleep at night, then don't let me stop you."

~VF~

"So what's the big announcement?" Orwell asked, looking at her nails. Maybe she should try painting them purple. Her teenage stepbrother sat next to her on the couch. Vince was seated opposite her, with her father standing next to him. "Are you getting a divorce?"

"No," Vince replied.

"You running for mayor, dad?" she asked.

"That seems pointless, since I already run the city."

_Although you could use it as a stepping stone to a higher office_, Chess pointed out.

"Are you going to tell us who the Cape is?" Trip asked, hopefully.

"When you're older," Vince replied.

"Then I give up," Trip said.

"Just tell us, Vince," Orwell said, making eye contact with him.

Peter squeezed Vince's hand.

"Trip, Jamie: Peter and I are going to have a baby."

"What?" The stepsiblings stared at the men.

"You mean you're going to adopt," Jamie said, slowly. Even that thought was hard to process. Three years and she still didn't see how her father was Vince's type.

"Not exactly, no. It's a little complicated. Peter can give you the technical details, but we've found a surrogate. You're going to have a little brother or sister."

"I _told_ you I would've preferred a dog," Trip muttered.

"Aren't you going to congratulate us?" Peter asked.

"Congratulations," Trip said. He elbowed his stepsister.

"Oh. Congratulations," she echoed, as she pulled out her smart phone.

"Orwell, put down that phone! I swear, if I find anything about this on your blog…"

"You're not my father, Vince," Jamie pointed out as she reluctantly lowered the phone.

"That's irrelevant. You'll do what he says," Peter told her.

"Or what, you'll cut off my allowance? I'm not twelve!"

"Then don't act like it."

Vince put his head in his hands.

"Oh, yeah; having another kid is going to be fun," he sighed.

**Author's Note: Chapter title from "Take Me Away." **

**Thanks again to IronAmerica and Orwell for reviewing!**

**Remember folks: All else being equal, the fic with more reviews gets updated first.**


	4. Ch 4: Before the Darkness Turns to Light

_Chapter Four: Before the Darkness Turns to Light_

_Flashback_

"Hi, Deveraux," Vince greeted as he entered the shape shifter's apartment. "Can we talk?"

"I guess," Deveraux shrugged. "Did you kill him? 'Cause I told you to wait until—"

"No one is going to kill Peter," Vince interrupted Rebecca.

"Not even after what he pulled?"

"What he did in going behind my back was wrong, as was his leading you to believe that I knew about all of this. But he was right about me wanting another child." Vince took Deveraux's hand. "Peter may have sprung this on me, but you should know that this _is_ a wanted pregnancy."

Deveraux smiled, feeling relieved.

"Now that that's settled, can we talk about the terms of the contract your husband made me sign?"

"He told me about the confidentiality provision, that's non-negotiable."

"I was thinking more about—"

"You not having parental rights to the child is also non-negotiable."

"But—"

"Let's get this clear: You're a surrogate. Peter hired you to do us a service for the next nine months. That's all."

"No fair. I am so not getting paid enough for this," Deveraux pouted.

_End Flashback_

~BC~

"Hey there, Trip," Jack Kirchner greeted his stepson as he entered the car. Jack was picking the teen up outside ARK Tower, getting ready to drive him to the home they shared with Dana. (In the beginning, Trip's mom would pick him up, but now that she was in her final trimester, Dana was staying closer to home.)

"Jack," Trip acknowledged him. He'd come to like this stepfather. He might not be able to support his mom in the same manner as the one Peter provided his father, but Trip sensed that the attorney was more trustworthy… (That thought probably would have struck him as noteworthy, if not for the fact that his mom was a lawyer, too.)

"Who's with mom?" Trip asked. He was certain that Jack hadn't left his very-pregnant wife alone when someone at ARK Tower could've given him a lift if necessary.

"Kia," Jack replied, naming Dana's best friend from work.

"And how is mom?"

"She's fine. She had a check-up the other day. Everything's going along as it should. Just think Trip: After the baby is born, your days of living with a hormonal pregnant woman will be over."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Trip responded. How did this happen to him? For most of his life he'd been an only child. Within another year he'd have a total of three siblings. Although, he supposed his stepsister wasn't that bad…even if she did worship coffee. After all, she did promise to teach him how to hotwire a car when he got older.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, puzzled.

"Dad and Peter said they've found a surrogate and they're having a baby."

The car came very close to swerving off the road.

"What the..? Watch the road!" Trip yelled.

~BC~

The two exited Jack's car, ready to enter the house.

"Trip," Jack began. "I don't think you should mention your dad's news to your mother just yet."

"Why shouldn't I?" Trip asked.

"Well, the shock might—"

"What shock?" Dana interrupted, as she opened the door for them.

"Dana, you didn't have to get the door for us. I had my key," her husband deflected as they went inside.

"I heard you pull up. It's not like you to linger outside chatting," she said, as she lowered herself into an armchair.

"Where's Kia?"

"In the bathroom, I think. So, give. What shock?"

"It's nothing," Jack replied.

"Okay," Dana replied skeptically. "So, Trip: Anything interesting happen at your father's?"

Trip looked between the two adults for a moment, before replying. Why did Jack seem to think it should be kept a secret? In his experience, secrets had only served to tear his family apart.

"Yeah, actually. Dad and Peter are going to have a baby."

"_What_?" Her ex-husband was… No. Trip must be confused. Vince was now married to another man.

"They said 'Aunt' Deveraux was going to be the surrogate and… Mom, are you okay?"

"Terrific," Dana replied. "Jack, I think my water just broke."

"But I thought the baby wasn't due for another week or so," Trip furrowed his brow as his stepfather sprung into action.

~BC~

"How is she?" Trip asked Jack later that evening. They'd been in Chandler Hospital for several hours. If Trip didn't get some sleep soon, he might become desperate enough to find out what coffee tastes like.

"_They're_ both perfectly healthy," Jack smiled. "Congratulations, Trip. You have a baby sister: Elaine Kirchner, weighing in at seven and a half pounds. You can go meet her now if you like."

Trip nodded and pushed himself out of the waiting room chair. Jack reached out a hand to pause him.

"Now do you see why I didn't want you to tell her?"

"…It's not like Elaine was born _that_ premature… They didn't have to put her in an incubator or anything."

~BC~

"Jamie, we've been together for three years," Rollo started. The two were in Orwell's bedroom.

"What's your point?"

"When are you going to introduce me to your father?"

"You don't want to meet my father, trust me," Orwell assured him. "Besides, you've met Vince."

Rollo rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't count. I met Vince before you met him."

"If I hadn't sent him that tip that sent him to the train yards and led to him being framed, you wouldn't have met him. Yes, I just heard how that sounded. Don't say anything about it."

"My point is, I'm starting to get the feeling you're ashamed of me," the thief told her.

"Don't be absurd."

"I don't embarrass you?"

"If anyone embarrasses me, it's my father. Or did you forget that he's Chess?"

"I can't really forget it what with you and Vince ranting about it every day. Well, not so much Vince, these past few years. I never thought I'd see a headline as bizarre as: 'ARK CEO ELOPES WITH FUGITIVE.'"

"Well brace yourself, because they'll get weirder."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't." Orwell bit her lip. "I promised Vince and my dad that I wouldn't say anything yet."

"You also promised to introduce me to your dad; that was more than a year ago. Go on, spill. What are the city's vigilante and psychopath up to now?"

"Alright, but if I tell you, you can't tell anyone: Not Max, not Raia, and especially not Ruvi."

"Okay."

As if afraid the room was bugged with her favorite gadgets, the blogger leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope; hang on, I'm getting a text." She checked her phone. "It's from Trip."

"What's he doing up at this hour?"

"He's in the Maternity Ward of Chandler Hospital. My stepbrother now has a little sister."

"Who's going to tell Vince?"

"Want to try rock, paper, scissors?" the brunette suggested.

~BC~

"Hello," Vince answered the phone. He frowned. Instead of saying hello, the person on the other end of the line was laughing, uncontrollably. He knew that laugh. It was the same one he'd heard after he'd discovered he'd married Fleming.

"Ruvi," Vince gritted his teeth. "Anything you'd like to say?" Ruvi took a minute to get control of himself.

"I just wanted to congratulate Chess' queen. When's the baby shower?"

"You piece of," Vince growled as he heard a click. The hypnotist had hung up on him.

He should calm down.

"If there's a problem, I can kill him for you."

Vince shook his head as he turned to the man lying next to him.

"Go back to sleep, Chess."

"You're assuming that I'm Chess."

"I can tell you apart by now," Vince replied.

"Showoff. You didn't notice any difference before I told you our secret. So, what happened?"

"Someone told Ruvi that we're expecting."

"Well, it wasn't me and it wasn't Peter."

"I know and it wasn't _me_, so who else knew?"

"That would leave Deveraux, your son, and—"

"_Orwell_," Vince clenched his hands into fists.

"I'm afraid I can't let you hurt her, Vince."

"Can I hurt her computer?"

"By all means, do," Chess answered, amused. "There's something else you want to ask me, isn't there?"

"Peter said that, when Jamie was growing up—"

"That I didn't interfere in her upbringing? Oh, if only he'd let me. Although, you would think her becoming Orwell would be down to my influence and I am rather proud of her…

"Relax, Faraday. I'm not going to screw up our offspring. Lord knows what Peter would do to me if I tried."

"Okay." Strangely enough, the psycho had reassured him. "Goodnight."

"Wait a minute. We're both awake. We don't have to go back to sleep right away."

"Chess!"

"What? Peter can't complain about you being unfaithful when we're the same person."

"Forget it."

"Oh come on. Admit it: I'm better than he is."

"We are not having this discussion."

"Why not? Couples need to communicate."

"Yeah, well, couples usually don't have three participants." Vince got out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"On patrol," he answered, as if it were obvious.

"You're not going to find anyone more dangerous than me out there."

"Good. Then you won't be worried about my safety," the Cape smirked, as he finished pulling on his costume.

"Do I at least get a kiss goodbye?"

The hero relented and brushed his lips against the other man's.

"Don't wait up."

**Author's Note: Chapter title from Scott Bakula's "Somewhere in the Night."**

**The scene where Jack is driving and Trip inadvertently makes him lose control for a moment was inspired by one from "Two and a Half Men," where Judith is driving Jake home and he springs something on her.**

***sighs* That'll teach me to say that the fic with more reviews gets updated first. Who'd have thought TBC would've done better than the latest chapter of "The Dresden Leap"? Oh well. At least writing for The Cape gives me some satisfaction in the face of the drek NBC is trying to push these days. **

**Thanks to IronAmerica and Orwell for reviewing!**

**Bonus points to anyone who knows where Elaine's name came from.**


	5. Chapter 5: Need to Be a Little Crazy

_Chapter Five: Need to Be a Little Crazy_

"Jamie!"

The blogger grumbled and rolled over in her sleep.

"Jamie!" Rollo tried again, shaking her until she opened her eyes and sat up, her brown hair askew.

"What?" she grumbled.

"Your phone's ringing."

She stared at him.

"You could have let whoever it was leave a message!"

"But the display says it's Vince calling. What if he's on patrol and he needs help?"

"Then he could have gotten his dear husband to go with him," she muttered. Or Rollo could have answered it himself if he was so worried about the Cape. Alright, maybe she was a tad cranky upon waking up, but she hadn't had her coffee yet. She squinted at the clock, grabbed the phone from him and answered it. "It's a quarter after five in the morning. This better be important!"

"_Orwell, how the HELL could you tell Ruvi that we were expecting?_"

"What are you talking about? I haven't spoken to Ruvi…" Jamie narrowed her eyes and looked at her boyfriend. Rollo began backing towards the door of the bedroom.

"You get back here!" she hissed. "I specifically told you not to tell anyone!"

"_Funny, that's what I remember telling you_," Vince interjected.

"I am so sorry, Vince! That's what I get for thinking that someone knew how to keep a secret." Pausing only to grab a robe and slip into it, she followed Rollo into the state of the art kitchen.

"_Don't go blaming this on Rollo! You're the one that blabbed, even though you had the most experience in secret-keeping. _

_ "Tell me the truth, if I hadn't accidentally married your father would I ever have gotten your real name?"_

"Yes…maybe…" but probably not, if she were being honest with herself. She sighed. She wouldn't have been so secretive if she hadn't been worried about her partner's reaction to her relation to one Peter Fleming. How was she supposed to know that a few years later they would be giving her a sibling? _Ugh_, too early in the morning for that thought.

She glared daggers at the back of Rollo's head. The shorter man was busying himself with making a pot of coffee, which showed that he wasn't completely suicidal.

"_I doubt that_," Vince said, reminding her that she was still on the phone.

"You can't seriously blame me for telling my boyfriend that I'm going to have a brother or sister Vince," Jamie argued. "And on top of that, he's your best friend. Weren't you going to confide in him?"

"_…Eventually_," Vince sighed. "_Yes, I was, but he told Ruvi! I am never going to hear the end of this! It's…_"

"I'm sure it could be worse," she assured her stepfather as Rollo handed her a mug of coffee that proclaimed her the 'WORLD'S GREATEST HACKER.'

'TELL HIM' Rollo mouthed to her. She looked at him blankly. 'ABOUT ELAINE,' the thief continued. Finally understanding, she shook her head and tried to hand him the phone. He backed away out of reach. _Jerk_, she thought.

"Er, Vince, I don't know if you've heard yet, but I received a text from Trip and…"

"_Is he alright_?" the vigilante asked in concern.

"He's great," Jamie bit her lip and then plunged on. "So is his little sister." She waited for a response.

"_His __**little**__ sister_," the Cape repeated.

"Her name is Elaine Kirchner; Vince? Are you okay?"

"Of course; I'm happy for Dana and Jack. I have to go finish up patrol. I'll talk to you later."

"Goodbye," Jamie said, before hanging up.

~VF~

He was happy for them, he reminded himself. Dana was part of his past. They had both moved on.

Vince had to look on the bright side, he told himself as he changed out of his costume at home. He was in love; between him and Peter they already had two healthy kids that loved them (or loved him, anyway; Vince wasn't too sure how Jamie felt about her father) and they were expecting another. So what if Ruvi now knew that he and Fleming were having a baby? He could handle Ruvi. Hell, he could hypnotize Ruvi and teach the jackass to mind his own damn business.

Things could be worse.

He crawled into bed beside Peter and fell asleep within minutes.

~VF~

"Vincent, could you come out here, please? We have company," Peter called not long after Vince had risen.

"Coming," Vince called back. He went out into the sitting room and froze.

Things had just gotten worse.

The Jackals were assembled there.

~VF~

"Please tell me this is a bad dream."

When Vince had been in the army, which seemed a lifetime ago, he had headed a crack team code-named the Jackals. _More like the team acted like it was on crack_, he thought, a smile curving his lips. There had been certain instances that he wasn't too proud of, some of which had led to the signing of a contract that, it was hoped, would keep the Jackals from reuniting after returning to civilian life.

As fate would have it, the contract's loophole that permitted contact after a third party's intervention had been triggered a few years ago, on Vince's wedding night, to be precise. Jake Lofgren happened to have been dating the officiator, who brought him in as a witness.

(Watching Faraday play tonsil-hockey with his groom was one way to learn the former officer was bisexual.)

The fact that Jake was still in one piece was a testament to the fact that he had kept the former Mrs. Faraday from learning his involvement in Captain Faraday's nuptials to Fleming.

The entire group wasn't assembled. Marty, of course, was gone. And the last time Vince had checked, Tom Hartman was a resident in a facility, being treated for compulsive fire-setting. No, wait, it couldn't be…

"Hiya, Captain!"

"Hartman, since when are you allowed to use Skype?"

"They're rewarding me for good behavior. I haven't set anything on fire in…two, three weeks, maybe?" This was a record for him. "And I may have hinted that letting me video chat would keep me from setting fire to the computer…"

"What are you guys doing here?"

"I bumped into a friend of yours at a casino last night," Lofgren began. "Romanian fellow, what was his name?"

"Ruvi," Vince supplied through gritted teeth.

"That was it," Jake nodded.

(Ruvi had met Jake at Vince's last birthday party. The vigilante suspected he would come to regret that. Truthfully, his amusement outweighed his fear and his anger. It was good to see his old friends again. But the hypnotist had been trying to stick it to him and for that he would pay.)

"So as I was saying, he caught up to me at the slot machines. Imagine my surprise when he said you were having another kid. I had to call the others. If this isn't a reason to get the gang back together, then I don't know what is!"

"Is it true? Father Jackal's going to be a father again?" Gregory Hanson asked. He had flown in from Georgia and was already regretting not taking the road. The plane was faster, but it was also impossible to smuggle a gun aboard.

"So much for being discrete," Peter muttered. "Don't tell me you're here to throw him a baby shower?"

"Some of us aren't gay," Winston Greene piped up. "We're here to get him blind drunk!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"We never got to give him a bachelor party before his second wedding," Hanson pointed out.

_That's because there was no period of bachelorhood separating the two marriages_, Chess observed.

"So we're absolutely going to party now," Winny declared.

"I see. If you'd like to use the penthouse—"

"NO!" Vince interrupted Peter before he could finish making the offer. Much as he used to look down on the penthouse, it had become his home, and he'd like it to remain in one piece. The odds of it surviving the presence of so many Jackals unscathed were not good.

"I mean, we'll go out," Vince continued quickly.

"Hey, Captain, when do we get to meet the woman carrying the youngest Faraday?" Hanson asked.

"You don't." The last thing Vince needed was for Deveraux to meet the Jackals.

"Do you want to hit the—"

"No, we are not going to the casinos," Vince interrupted Lofgren.

"Spoilsport; do you know if it's going to be a boy or a girl?"

"Not yet," Faraday replied as the veterans piled into the high-rise's elevator. He turned to the others. "I do hope you're smarter than to let him give you anything other than 50/50 odds on that."

~VF~

Back in his room, Hartman frowned at his computer. It was completely unfair that he had to miss out on all the fun because of his mandatory treatment. He debated setting the P.C. on fire. It would satisfy him in the short term, but then he wouldn't be able to use it for video chatting anymore.

It was best to pick a different target. Maybe this time he could make it look like spontaneous combustion…

Really, he didn't see why out of the original six men, he was the only one that wound up in an institution. The shrinks would say that they each had their own pathology. Alright, so his involved pyromania; Lofgren was a compulsive gambler; Hanson had a tendency to shoot people and Greene was terribly quick to employ his expertise in demolitions.

The Captain was the only one that was tricky to diagnose, but if pressed Hartman would say that Faraday's problem was recklessness. Time after time he would get himself into a situation that he might not have been able to walk away from. The incident at the train yards awhile back was a good example: Faraday had come incredibly close to being blown to smithereens. And would anyone have been called to account? No; ARK's justification was that a dangerous nut had been resisting arrest.

That may have been the case, but was that any reason to kill the man?

~VF~

Sometime in the dead of night, Vince stumbled back into the penthouse. Not ambitious enough to try for the bedroom, he collapsed onto the couch.

Peter took one look at him, sighed, and roused him enough to be able to half-drag him to their room.

**Author's Note: Chapter title from Avril Lavigne's "What the Hell". **

**Well, I am an author of my word. I promised IronAmerica that after she wrote "What the Hell Is Going On?" I would have her Jackals make an appearance in "The Baby Carriage." (Yes, it took me awhile, but I still did it.)**

**Thanks again to IronAmerica and Orwell for reviewing!**

**Now, I don't want to say that it'll be months before the next chapter if I don't get reviews, but…**


	6. Chapter 6: Life's Too Short for This

_Chapter Six: Life's Too Short for This_

Fortunately, the Jackals' visit didn't result in any reports of mayhem that Peter would have to suppress.

Jake Lofgren, Gregory Hanson, and Winston Greene didn't stay in town long after the partying, but they promised to return. (Vince was at least as anxious about this threat as Peter as they claimed to have incriminating photographs of their old captain to show off.)

Tom Hartman, meanwhile, would have to wait awhile before his next Skype session. His computer privileges had been suspended after the orderlies put out his latest fire.

~PV~

Deveraux, in Peter's opinion, does not bitch about the morning sickness nearly as much as you would expect.

"This isn't my first pregnancy," she reminded him one day, alluding to her supposed status as his ancestor. Peter remained skeptical.

They were sitting on the couch in the living room of Deveraux's ARK Tower apartment. A member of Peter's staff was currently dealing with the unenviable task of cleaning the bathroom.

"And I suppose you're going to tell me that with repetition one gets better at retching?" the billionaire asked.

"Very funny, Peter. No, but you do get used to the idea that it's part of the process."

Peter shook his head, convinced, more than ever, that their surrogate was insane.

He decided Vince could tend to Rebecca's morning sickness from then on. Perhaps as a bonus Vince would realize what he put Peter through on the occasions he was hung-over and decide to give up alcohol altogether. He would prefer not to have to deal with vomit ever again.

_Then you really shouldn't be having another child_, Chess observed.

Peter sighed and silently conceded the point. Although, he was pretty sure that Jamie had kept most of her food down as a child.

_There is a huge difference between 'most' and 'all,' Peter. Babies throw up. It is right up there with crying and needing their nappies changed. Which reminds me, you won't need to have a shrink beg me to shut up and go away. I will happily keep to myself for a while after the brat is born._

Peter sighed, as if he had needed further proof that Chess was evil.

~PF~

"Are you sisters?" the clerk, 'Megan' according to her nametag, asked. Jamie was accompanying Deveraux on a trip to buy maternity clothes.

"No," Jamie scowled. She hurried on before Rebecca could claim to be her mother. "This is my aunt."

"Ah, my mistake," Megan apologized.

Jamie, towing several potential purchases along, ushered Deveraux towards the changing area and away from the salesperson.

"She was just noticing the family resemblance," Rebecca said softly.

"Okay, first of all, what she was doing was looking for a commission. Second, you are way too old to be my sister, so it's far from a compliment from where I'm standing. And thirdly, the resemblance still creeps me out, couldn't you, you know…?" she made a vague gesture towards her face.

"Sorry, I make it a rule not to shape shift while I'm expecting," Rebecca replied. There might not be any studies on the subject, but she doubted it would be good for the baby. "Look, believe it or not, I haven't tried to imitate you. _You_ resemble _me_ because you inherited some of my genes."

"Dad always said I took after my mom," Jamie murmured. She didn't really remember her mother, but she had much preferred to believe she was like her, rather than her father.

"Her, too," Rebecca acknowledged. "You certainly didn't get your eyes from your father."

"Well, I wouldn't have. Blue eyes are recessive—"

"It's been awhile since I had to try clothes on," Rebecca interrupted the younger woman. "I mean, normally, if clothes don't fit, I just make them fit." The immortal went into a stall, tried on an outfit, and emerged a few moments later. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I think that I shouldn't have been roped into this little shopping expedition." Neither Vince nor her father had expressed any interest in accompanying Deveraux. Jamie hadn't been any more enthusiastic about it, but did anyone care? No.

"I meant about the outfit, Jamie."

"It's too colorful if you ask me," she answered, wrinkling her nose at all the pink.

"Hmm," Deveraux headed back into the stall to try on something less loud. "Have you given any thought to having kids of your own, dear?" she called out.

One of Jamie's eyes twitched.

"No, I'm too young."

"You say that, but you're not immortal. Before you know it, you'll be in your thirties. Women younger than you have given birth. And I know Peter's going to want grandchildren soon."

"Then maybe my sibling will oblige him. I don't have any plans for settling down with a husband and making babies. Now change the topic or I'm leaving without you."

"Fine; is this one better?" Deveraux asked, reemerging. The top was nearly identical to the one before, but unlike the offending garment, this one was a deep green.

"Yeah, that'll do."

"Great! I hope there isn't a long line at the checkout. I want to hit the food court next. I'm _starving_."

~JF~

"We need to talk about names," Vince said towards the end of Deveraux's second trimester. He and Peter had retired for the evening. Fleming had been gazing at the ceiling, but he turned and faced his spouse.

"Alright, how about Leorah for a daughter?" he suggested.

"Leorah," Vince tried out the sound of it. "Not bad; what does it mean?"

"It means 'light.'"

"Nice, but I was kind of hoping we could name her Cariana, after my mom."

Peter smiled. So they did think alike in some respects. Leorah had been his mother's name.

"I tell you what: How about you choose the name for a girl and I'll choose the name for a son?"

Vince's blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. It sounded reasonable, which probably meant Peter was up to something. Perhaps he'd found out the sex of the child without telling him.

"And what were you thinking of for a boy?" the vigilante asked. It would be just like Peter, he thought, to pick something horrible that would get a kid teased throughout grade school. If it was something like Quentin, Vince would have to veto it.

"Well, you must admit, 'Peter' has a certain ring to it." He would not smirk; it would not help his case any. Maybe just a little smirk…

"Peter!" Vince scowled.

"You've already got a son named after you, Vince," Fleming pointed out. "I'm sure someday when Trip is grown he'll go on to have Vincent Faraday the Fourth. Would you begrudge me for naming a son Peter Fleming the Second?"

"Yes, I would. First of all, this kid is going to be a _Faraday_."

Thus began the heated argument of whose last name the child would take, the upshot of which was that both surnames would be used. (The order of the names still had to be hashed out, but that was being tabled for another time.)

Vince still had misgivings about naming a boy Peter.

"Couldn't we just name him after my brother?" Vince asked.

"No and now you're making excuses. I can tell you weren't dead-set on the name 'Ian.'" Vince rarely saw his brother anymore and had had no contact with him back when he was faking his death. "What's really troubling you?"

"When Trip was born, I started telling him about his grandfather, his legacy. I wanted him to be proud of his name," which, they both knew, was Vincent Faraday the Third.

"I see. You don't think one could be proud of the name 'Peter Fleming,'" the billionaire rose from the bed, feeling stung.

"Peter, I just…"

"Just what, don't have any respect for me? You're just going to poison our offspring against me from the beginning?"

"Damn it Peter!" Vince thumped a fist against the mattress. "Don't make me out to be the bad guy! I didn't force you to kill your victims. I almost _was _oneof those victims. Forgive me for not wanting my son associated with that madness."

"Then we have a problem, Vince, because he wouldn't just be _your_ son, but _ours_. I thought that would make you happy, that it was a brilliant idea. I see that I was mistaken." Fleming got dressed and left the tower.

He didn't come home that night.

It was one of the biggest fights they had had in months.

Vince supposed he should be grateful that Chess' regalia had been left behind. It meant the citizens of Palm City should be safe from the villain's wrath.

But it also meant Palm City's hero didn't have an excuse to chase after him.

~VF~

"Was I wrong?" a morose Vince asked his stepdaughter the next day as they sat in her kitchen. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. When he left the penthouse, Peter still hadn't returned.

"Vince," Jamie sighed. "It's not that you don't have a point."

"But?" Vince prompted her.

"But I ran away from home while I was just a teenager so I could get as far away from my father as possible. For years, I didn't speak to him and he didn't know if I was alive or dead. And that was without someone else being there while I was growing up to tell me that my father was a horrendous madman. Now imagine if there was, and that someone else was a parent.

"My father's barely gotten over the fear that he's going to lose you and not only did you renew it, but you've added the fear that he's going to lose a child all over again.

"Parents may not be allowed to choose favorites, but they don't treat all their children the same. I know he wants to try to do better by this child, Vince. He's petrified by the thought of creating another Orwell."

Vince swallowed under her gaze.

"You know you turned out okay in the end, Jamie."

"Maybe, despite all odds, but I don't blame him for not wanting to wake up twenty years from now to find out that his enemy is his son. He needs your support, Vince. He needs to have you believe in him."

~VF~

When the men came face-to-face again in the penthouse, Vince launched himself at Peter, who clung to him tightly.

In between showering Fleming with kisses, Faraday spoke.

"I'm sorry. If it's a boy, we'll name him Peter—"

"You were right," Peter interrupted him. "I tried to kill you. If I had succeeded—"

"But you didn't. I'm right here…"

"With a monster," Peter finished.

"No. The things you did, they were terrible, but you are not just the sum of your actions. You can be more. You _are_ more. I wouldn't love you if you weren't.

"And our child will love you, too."

**Author's Note: Chapter title from Pink's Blow Me One Last Kiss.**

**Thanks to Orwell and IronAmerica for reviewing!**

**I assume everyone understands the reference to Vince's brother?**


	7. Chapter 7: The Best Luck I Had

_Chapter Seven: The Best Luck I Had_

_Approximately three months later:_

Peter groped blindly for the cell phone on his bedside table. The incessant ringing had woken him up. The other side of his bed was empty, his husband out patrolling their city.

"Hello," he answered, still half-asleep.

"Peter, it's happening!" Rebecca all but yelled into the phone.

"What?" he asked, his blue eyes going wide.

"My water just broke. The baby's coming!" she hissed.

_Shite._ He wasn't sure whether the thought was his or Chess', but that hardly mattered at the moment. He fumbled with the light switch.

"Stay right there. I'll be downstairs shortly," he informed her.

"Alright, but hurry," she urged, right before he hung up.

Peter called another number, even as he shrugged into his clothes.

"_What is it?"_ the Cape rasped over his headset.

"Hello to you, too, dear; Deveraux's going into labor," Peter explained as he headed towards the elevator.

"_I'll come straight home_."

"Don't bother. You can meet us at the clinic," Peter rattled off the name of the address as he stepped out of the elevator and into Deveraux's apartment. Rebecca, he saw, had already thrown on her coat and footwear.

"_Okay, I'll… No, I have to stop by home anyway, unless you want the Cape to show up at the delivery room?_"

Peter, who was in the process of helping Deveraux towards the door, cursed. He hadn't thought of that.

"Faraday, if you show up with so much as a mask, I swear to—"

He was cut off by a cry of pain from Deveraux, as a contraction hit her. He hung up and focused on her.

"Alright, it's okay. Just hang in there." As they hit the lobby of ARK Tower, Peter barked out an order to one of his men to have a car brought around for them. Within minutes Peter guided the immortal into the backseat and sat beside her. He told the driver their destination and they took off.

~PF~

Worst case scenario, if Vince did show up as the Cape, they would still be able to do damage control. Peter owned the clinic, of course. But he would prefer not to have to test his employees' loyalty by asking them to ignore the vigilante's inexplicable presence at the birth.

There was too much to keep secret. Fleming wouldn't hear of having the delivery at a public hospital.

_Flashback_

"There would be too many questions," he explained to his daughter as they sat in the penthouse. No one outside of their close circle—and the Jackals…and Patrick Portman, with whom Vince had put in a request for paternity leave*—knew he and his husband were expecting. For now, Fleming wanted to keep it that way.

"You mean you don't want anyone to find out you've discovered a way for same-sex couples to biologically reproduce," Jamie frowned.

"Didn't you say that the discovery was made by LuthorCorp?" Vince interjected. The two Flemings ignored him. LuthorCorp had never taken credit for the breakthrough made years ago and they weren't worried about the company getting recognized for the achievement now. Besides which, LuthorCorp had never put the theory to the test. The only specimens produced for the deceased CEO were short-lived, frog-eating clones.

"Dad, do you know how many people this would help? How many couples would want the opportunity that you and Vince have?"

"What I know is that my child is not going to go down in history as a science experiment. He—or she—is not going to go through life as a freak. I will **not** let the media destroy this child's chance at a normal life!" he banged his fist on the coffee table for emphasis.

"And don't tell me about all the people this would help," he continued. "Do you know how many children there are that are waiting to be adopted?"

"I didn't see you worrying about those children when you spliced your DNA with Vince's!" Orwell retorted.

"Fine, I'm selfish. Is that what you wanted to hear, Jamie? I am. I realize that I can't force Orwell to sit on this scientific discovery forever. All I ask is that it wait so that your brother—or sister—won't be dragged into some scandalous media frenzy as an infant."

The woman's brow creased. After so much time spent hiding from the public eye (and her father's investigators), she didn't know how to respond to that.

"What do you have to say about this?" Jamie looked at her stepfather expectantly. He shrugged.

"Peter, don't you already own the press in Palm City? Couldn't you just, I don't know, order the reporters to give our family some privacy?"

"People disobey orders, Vince. Yes, I know one would have to be a fool disobey me and invite my wrath—"

_Don't you mean mine? _Chess corrected him.

"—But as satisfying as it is to dole out punishments, it does not keep the damage from being done in the first place. The best way to keep a story from being printed is to keep the press from getting wind of it."

_That is precisely why there have been no reports of my being a separate personality_, Chess added. _And, yes, I know the secret identity helps._

_End Flashback_

~VF~

Jamie wound up driving Vince to the clinic. To Peter's relief, Faraday was wearing plain clothes when they arrived.

"How is she doing?" Vince asked.

"The doctors say she's doing fine. Everything is progressing normally," Peter replied. "Now we just wait. No telling how many hours it will be." He remembered Danielle had been in labor for roughly twenty hours when Jamie was born.

"I'll go get coffee," Jamie volunteered. Her father stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me, you being here."

"Hey, this is my sibling we're talking about. Someone has to keep an eye out to make sure you two don't goof up," she teased, before going off in search of the cafeteria.

"She was joking, right?" Vince asked after she'd left.

"Partially," Fleming replied, his lips curving up.

~PF~

"PETER!" Deveraux screamed ten hours later. Both expectant fathers were standing near her bed. "GODDAMN YOU! IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME VISITATION RIGHTS AFTER ALL OF THIS—GAHH!"

"It's really far too late to negotiate now. So this is the joyous experience you were so fond of repeating," Peter remarked dryly. "What happened to childbirth being such a wonderful…?"

"SHUT UP!" Rebecca interrupted him.

"I offered her drugs," the attending doctor, Isabella Groh, said helplessly. "She insisted that she didn't need drugs for her previous childbirths and she wasn't going to start now."

"That's because it's been like a thousand years since I last gave bi—_argh_!" She hadn't remembered the pain being this intense. Was it too late to change her mind about the drugs?

"Okay, Deveraux, breathe," Vince said. "Remember you practiced breathing."

Deveraux breathed, in and out, remembering the Lamaze she'd been taught.

"Not helping," she gritted out.

"She's dilated. Rebecca, I need you to push through the next one," the doctor said.

"What?"

"Push," Groh repeated.

"Already? No, I can't—"

"Yes, you can," Peter pointed out. She looked into his face, so like Gregory's, and nodded. She had done this before. She could do it again. She was starting to feel rather Zen about this.

"Ice chips?" a nurse offered her.

The plastic cup hit the beige wall just as the shape shifter started to push.

"Okay, good, I can see the head," Dr. Groh announced, either not noticing or not caring about the patient's outburst. "When the next one comes, push really hard."

Finally, a cry split the air, expressing all of the anguish at being thrust out of nice, cozy accommodations and into this huge, freezing room with harsh lights, not to mention the indignities of being slapped and manhandled.

Dr. Groh snipped the umbilical cord before the infant was whisked away to have the detritus washed off.

~PF~

Deveraux had forgotten that newborns looked significantly better after they were cleaned up. She looked down at the now clean baby in her arms with undeniable pride.

"May I?" Peter asked, reaching his hands out.

Deveraux thought of refusing, but he had asked, not ordered, and he didn't seem to have any more energy to start a fight now than she did. (The exhaustion she vaguely remembered from long ago.)

Oh so carefully, Rebecca handed Peter his son. He weighed just less than ten pounds.

The birth certificate would read 'Peter Faraday Fleming.' With Faraday substituting for a middle name, the CEO figured the name could be easily abbreviated as 'Peter Fleming,' (though that probably hadn't yet occurred to Vincent). The certificate would also state that Pete's parents were Vincent Faraday II and Peter Fleming, Sr., with no mention of Rebecca's role.

The lawyers had discussed adoption with Fleming. Apparently, it was sometimes used in surrogacy cases to make sure that both spouses were legally the child's parents. Peter thought the notion that either he or his spouse would have to adopt their own son was absurd. But if it did become an issue, he was sure papers could be forged later on.

In the meantime, let people wonder whether Peter or Vince was the biological father. There would probably be competing opinions. Pete, as far as one could tell from the few strands of hair on his mostly bald head, was going to have Fleming's black hair. But (mercifully) he'd inherited Faraday's ears. Eyes were difficult to tell early on, as irises could change, but Peter suspected their son would favor the vigilante in that respect.

"You knew about the gender, didn't you?" Vince accused. "That's why you had the nursery painted blue."

"Nonsense; the color was chosen because blue is supposed to be soothing. Chess suggested red, but I didn't think you'd approve."

"Yeah, right," the prison guard replied.

"Are you mad at me?" the older man asked.

"No; nothing is going to upset me today. He's perfect," Faraday proclaimed, beaming down at their baby. He sighed, and then added, "even if he does have your chin."

~JF~

Jamie left after seeing her baby brother. Meeting him, she'd felt a pang—of what, she wasn't certain. Almost on autopilot, she'd dialed Rollo and asked him to meet her back at the apartment. He was already inside when she got back. She didn't remember driving home; lucky thing she hadn't gotten into a collision.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, after they had sat down on the living room couch. He wasn't sure what to make of the expression on her face. Though he'd known her so long, her face could still be as unreadable as a stranger's.

She shook her head.

"Nothing's wrong. I've just been thinking," she answered her boyfriend. "We've been together for a few years now.

"Do you want to get married?"

***That was not a fun conversation for either participant. Portman never did get over the fact that Fleming had ordered a hit on him and thus didn't know what Vince saw in the man.**

**Author's Note: And you thought the only cliffhanger in the story was going to be the baby's gender.**

**Thanks to Orwell and IronAmerica for reviewing! And thanks to those who have added the story to their list of favorites.**

**Chapter title is from Michael Franti and Spearhead's "Say Hey I Love You."**


	8. Chapter 8: You're My Sweetheart

_Chapter Eight: You're My Sweetheart_

"Let me guess: your biological clock's ticking?" Rollo blurted out. He cringed, not knowing why he had said that. (Of course, he knew why he had _thought_ it. It couldn't be a coincidence that the proposal came right on the heels of her brother's birth.) Petrified that he might have blown his chance, he hurried on. "I mean, YES! Let's get married."

Jamie frowned and folded her arms. Her boyfriend's initial reaction hurt, but the worst part was that he wasn't entirely wrong.

"Okay, if you must know, yeah, I would like to have kids someday. Or _a_ kid…" She hadn't realized before today that she did want to be a mother. But after seeing Peter Junior… long-forgotten childhood memories of playing House came back to her.

She had focused for so long on protecting the city that she had sublimated her personal dreams. And now that her father had (semi)reformed, semi-salvaging the family name, and since the Fleming lineage was apparently going to continue with or without her help… She realized that she wanted to leave a legacy outside of cyberspace. But first she had to make one thing clear.

"That's not the only reason that I'm proposing to you, Rollo. We've been dating exclusively for almost four years. We're living together and—"

"And?" Rollo prompted her.

"And we love each other," Jamie tilted her chin up. "It's not that I just want to have kids, Rollo. Hell, if that was it, I'd adopt one. I want to be with you, to start a family with you. Do you want that, too?"

"Nothing would make me happier," Rollo smiled. "Hey! You know what this means? You'll finally have to introduce me to your father."

Jamie spent the next several minutes debating the merits of eloping. In the end, she decided against it. Other parts of her fantasy had changed, but she still wanted her father to be there to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day.

~PF~

Chess thought of no fewer than four jokes based on Rollo's height. However, in accordance with his vow not to resurface until Junior was at least three years old, he kept them to himself.

The meeting with Peter went something like this:

"I understand that you know I'm Chess."

"Yep," Rollo shrugged.

"You don't seem that intimidated."

"If I could take down Scales, I think I can handle you."

"That's what's giving you confidence? You do know that Raoul is rotting away in the penitentiary on Owl Island?"

"Dad," Jamie interjected, "enough with the shovel speech! I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

Peter raised an eyebrow and coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "_Lich_."

"That doesn't count," Jamie frowned. "And, anyway, Rollo helped Vince save me." That earned the carnie Peter's respect.

"So, where are you two going for your honeymoon?" Peter asked.

"We were thinking Silicon Valley," Orwell teased.

"Actually, we agreed on Paris," Rollo answered him.

~JF~

Deveraux, having just finished feeding Pete, smirked at the blogger.

"It's funny, because I distinctly remember you telling me not that long ago that you had '_no plans for settling down with a husband and making babies_.' Something about you being 'too young;' wherever did that attitude go?" the shape shifter inquired, nodding towards the engagement ring on her descendant's finger.

"In the first instance, just because I'm engaged doesn't mean I'm going to start having kids right away—or that I'll start popping them out one after another like you claimed you did."

"I don't think I phrased it that way," Deveraux frowned. "And that doesn't explain your change of heart."

"What can I say? Insanity must run in the family." There had been a time when she would not have been able to say those words in jest, but she was no longer so insecure about her mental stability.

~MM~

"You wanted to see me, Max?" Rollo asked, closing the door of Max's trailer behind him. He approached his friend's desk.

"Yes, I did. What is this I hear about Vincent being your best man?" Malini demanded. "It's not like he asked you to be the best man at _his_ wedding."

"He was stoned out of his mind at his wedding! It was lucky he remembered his _own_ name, let alone mine," Rollo pointed out. He was confident that if Vince hadn't eloped, he would have asked him to be the best man.

"Regardless, what about me? I don't know if it occurred to you, but we go back a long time. Vincent didn't come into the picture until after we set up in Palm City," Max pointed out.

"Max, I'm sorry if I insulted you—"

~ER~

"You can tell me the truth, I won't feel insulted. I wasn't your first pick for maid of honor, was I?" Raia asked. The two had become friends over the years (a friendship that grew stronger after they both realized Vince was off the market), but the aerialist suspected the blogger had closer friends.

"Well, no," Orwell admitted. "I asked Gaylord, but he insisted that a guy couldn't be a maid of honor."

"That's so not true!" the blonde protested. "Remember that movie, the one where he's secretly in love with the bride? What was it called?"

"I know, I mentioned it to him, but he wasn't convinced by _Made of Honor_. Go figure," the brunette shrugged. "So will you do it?"

"On one condition: I get to pick the color of my dress."

"…Fine, but I still have the final say on the style."

"Deal," Raia extended her hand.

~JF~

"Unless you're going to put off the wedding for a few years, you can't use your brother as the ring-bearer," Peter stated. Dark circles had formed under his eyes—"_the joys of having a newborn_," her father had said when she'd stared.

"Well, we actually don't want to drag the engagement out that long—"

"Then you'll have to think of someone else. Unless you want Pete to put the rings in his mouth and choke on them," he drawled.

"Of course she doesn't," Vince walked into the living area, the baby safe in his arms. (Mercifully, Pete was asleep, giving his little lungs a well-deserved break.) There were the hints of bags under Faraday's eyes, too, but the change wasn't as noticeable. Jamie figured that, as Palm City's vigilante, he probably hadn't gotten much sleep to begin with.

"You should let me handle the rings," Vince continued in a soft voice, to avoid waking his younger son. "I'm pretty sure it should be part of my duties as best man."

"I thought you'd decided to share that title with Max," Jamie replied.

"Rollo offered to make him a second best man and he said 'no, forget it.' I think," Vince gazed at the infant as he spoke, "he's up to something. Maybe he's planning on robbing the guests at the reception."

"No," Orwell began. "Max wouldn't—" she stopped, closed her mouth and thought about it.

"I know. Max means the world to me; I owe him my life—"

That got a sharp look from Peter, who had never been told about the time Vince had been kidnapped by Scales. The billionaire made a mental note to get the full story later. (When he did, he was far from pleased, but Vince convinced him not to have Scales killed in his cell.)

"—but we are talking about the leader of the Carnival of _Crime_," he went on. "Maybe I can stash the cape in my tux…"

"Is it too much to want my wedding to go off without a hitch?" Jamie groaned.*****

"It should be a simple matter of figuring out how to keep Malini quiet," Peter declared. (Really, if anything was going to break Chess' vow of silence, he thought that would've been it. Yet there wasn't a peep from the maniac.)

"We're not going to threaten our friend," Vince responded.

"He doesn't mean threatening," Jamie interpreted for her father, "or not necessarily, anyway. Dad knows there are other ways to manipulate people… Oh, I think I have an idea!"

~JF~

The wedding was held at one of Fleming's resorts. (Churches had been ruled out for fear of triggering a flashback for Orwell. Similarly, much as she had liked the dress in her toxin-induced hallucination, she wanted to be sure her real dress didn't resemble it too closely. And so on and so forth, though at least the blogger didn't feel the need to slice herself open to prove she wasn't dreaming.)

In the end, it was a fairly small affair. Gaylord attended, wearing a tux along with his trademark dyed dreadlocks. So did Deveraux, who was charged with watching over the littlest Fleming for the day. Sitting near the shape shifter were Dana, Jack, Trip, and young Elaine.

Raia, as maid of honor, proceeded down the aisle in an ice blue dress that the bride had consented to. Thankfully, it wasn't hideous. Jamie's only stipulation was that it couldn't be as magnificent as her dress.

The band (sans violins) struck up "Here Comes the Bride," as Peter walked his daughter****** down the aisle, towards the groom and the best man and Max.

The blogger had proposed that Max perform the ceremony. After all, it was easy to become certified as an officiant online and she figured this would smooth over any hurt feelings he had for not being chosen as the best man.

She'd figured right. Max, ever the performer, enjoyed having all eyes on him (and the couple).

"Good friends, acquaintances and people I could care less about," Max saw no reason to call the assembled '_dearly beloved_' (the bar wasn't even open yet); "we are here today to witness the wedding of this man and this woman…"

"…If anyone wants to object, let him speak now or forever keep his mouth shut…"

Wisely, no one spoke up, although the bride's eight-month-old brother let out a wail, before Rebecca shushed him.

"Do you Jamie Fleming, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold for richer or poorer—in your case, probably richer—in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, through arrests and arraignments—"

"_Max_," Rollo groaned.

"—for as long as you both shall live?" Max finished.

"I do," Jamie smiled.

"I thought you'd say that. And do you, Jarl Rollo…"

"Jarl?" Vince mouthed. It was the first time he'd ever heard his best friend's first name. Others had equally astonished looks on their faces.◊ The groom stared them down, daring anyone to say anything about his name, _ever_.

"…take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, blah, blah, blah, you know the deal, yes or no?"

"I do," Rollo replied.

"Good; Vincent, do you still have the rings?"

The couple had seen the logic in dispensing with a separate ring bearer, and relied on Vince to see to the bands. Vince refrained from rolling his eyes as he handed them over.

"…By the power invested in me by the State of Franklin and The Monastery Dot Org, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!" Max boomed.

The audience cheered as Jamie bent down to kiss her husband.

**Footnotes:**

***Apparently, it wasn't.**

****For obvious reasons, she was wearing flat shoes. **

◊**Except for Anarchy, a.k.a. Gaylord, who wasn't in any position to make fun of other people's names.**

**Author's Note: Gaylord/Anarchy is, of course, IronAmerica's OC. Hope it's okay that I borrowed him.**

**Thanks again to Orwell and IronAmerica for reviewing!**

**The chapter title is from The Lumineers' "Ho Hey."**

**Since Rollo apparently was never given a first name, I named him after the first Duke of Normandy, whom I suspect was his namesake in the first place. The Monastery Dot Org is a real website, though I am not endorsing it. **


	9. Chapter 9: Come Down to Earth Again

_Chapter Nine: Come Down to Earth Again_

"Should they be watching that?" Vince asked, nodding towards the two toddlers—one auburn-haired three-year-old girl, and a younger, black-haired boy, with his thumb in his mouth. Both were sitting, seemingly enraptured, in front of a movie about pirates.

Trip looked towards the half-siblings he'd been babysitting and shrugged.

"They seem to like it."

"Wouldn't Elaine prefer something about princesses and fairies?"

"Pete wouldn't," Trip pointed out. "And I haven't heard Elaine complaining."

"Fair enough; just don't let your mother find out your sister saw this. She'd say it's too violent and will cause nightmares."

Trip remembered a time when having a nightmare meant his father would come into his room and lay with him until he fell asleep. He also remembered the period after his father had been framed, when he would have nightmares about exploding trains and masked fiends. Only when he woke up from those, his father wasn't there to comfort him.

His siblings would never have to go through any of that.

"Nightmares build character," Trip said aloud.

"Philosophy won't keep your mom from grounding you, so you'd better hope Elaine sleeps well tonight.

"In the meanwhile, why don't you go do your homework?" Vince suggested.

"It won't take me long. Dad, can we talk first?"

"Sure." They headed into the teenager's room. Vince took the chair by the desk and his son sat on the edge of the bed. "What's on your mind?" Vince asked.

"Were you ever going to tell me that you're the Cape?"

The elder Faraday's eyes went wide; the air seemed to whoosh out of his lungs, so he took a deep breath before speaking.

"Wh-what?"

"No; don't make this worse! Don't pretend you're not," Trip was vehement.

"I was going to tell you—eventually, when you were older…"

"How old exactly? I'll be sixteen in a few months! Were you waiting for me to go off to college, maybe grad school?"

"I don't know! Trip, I'm sorry. I should have planned this better, but I swear I wasn't going to keep it from you forever. You believe me, don't you?"

Trip looked into his father's eyes for a moment, assessing, and then sighed.

"Yeah, I believe you." Ruvi had cast a number of aspersions on his father's intelligence over the years. Considering the nature of the deception, Trip privately had to concede that Ruvi might be onto something. (When Trip was nine going on ten, a real live superhero made sense. Things seemed very different when you were fifteen going on sixteen.)

"It's just—you've been the Cape all these years…"

"How did you find out?" Vince asked.

"You're never around when shi—when stuff is going down," Trip shook his head. "You never bothered to keep Orwell's identity a secret around here. I started to wonder how you met her and Rollo and the gang. And I figured that was around the time we thought you were dead, which was when the Cape first showed up.

"And I haven't seen you as the Cape face-to-face in a long time, but I remembered that I still have the surveillance footage from mom's old apartment building.

"It recorded sound too, you know. And you never did that good a job disguising your voice. You tried to lower it a little, I guess, but when you're listening for it, you hear the similarities." (He'd then talked to a somewhat inebriated 'Uncle' Max to confirm his suspicions, but his dad didn't need to know that.)

"Dad, long underwear and a cape, seriously?" Trip teased.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Vince defended himself. "It let me see you, speak to you again. And Peter, too, though it was for a different reason back then."

"What do you mean?" Trip asked.

"If you know about me, it's probably time you knew the truth about Peter, too." Vince bit his lip. "But—"

"You'd have to swear it doesn't leave this room," Peter interrupted, entering and closing the door behind him.

"Peter, I didn't hear you come home," Vince said.

"Clearly; really, Faraday, if he's going to know this, it should come from me."

"Maybe this was a bad idea. He'll hate you," Vince whispered.

"He's a teenager; I'm his stepfather. He's going to hate me either way. Let it be for a legitimate reason, at least." Fleming sat on the bed near his stepson and faced him.

"Trip, I am," he cleared his throat, "that is, I used to be Chess."

"What?!"

"I'd say your father's rather cured me of my villainous tendencies over the years. Why, I haven't killed anyone since—honey, do you remember the last person I killed?" Peter turned to his husband.

"You're screwing this up," Vince answered.

"Well, if there's any _good_ way to explain a past as a serial killer—in fact, as the serial killer who wrecked your home—why don't you enlighten me?"

"I might be sick," Trip squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them. No, he wasn't actually nauseous, but he was disgusted. "Dad, have you known about him this whole time? How the hell could you marry Chess?"

"Now don't blame him. We were both rather inebriated at the time," Peter explained, as if that made everything better.

"Again, not helping, dear," Vince chastised his husband.

"Well, excuse me!" Peter threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "I don't exactly make a habit of telling people about Chess!"

"Look, let me speak to Trip. You go look after the rug rats. Somebody should be keeping an eye on them."

"Fine," Peter acquiesced, heading out of the teen's bedroom.

"Dad, I don't understand," Trip said. "You hated Chess. You told me he was evil. You said you were going to get him—I didn't think you meant you were going to get him to marry you!"

"No, that wasn't what I had in mind," Vince gave a half-smile. "I know this is hard for you to digest. But Peter and I fell for each other and he's not the monster he used to be. Come with me. Let me show you something."

He lead his son back out into the living room, where Peter was holding their son on his lap. Pete Junior smiled at the face above him, gurgling, "Papa!"

"Tell me what you see," Vince said to his namesake.

"They love each other," Trip acknowledged. And he knew in that instant that he had the power to do exactly what Fleming had done to him—he could separate father and son by bringing in the (federal) authorities and telling them who Chess was. But he didn't have it in him; couldn't devastate his little brother the way he had been devastated years ago. He turned to his father.

"How's Pete going to feel when he learns the truth about his 'Papa'?"

"We'll tell him when he's older," Vince answered. "And in the meantime, we're not going to vilify Chess. I know—Chess did horrible things and we're not going to lie about them. We're not going to pretend they were justified. But you can hate the action without hating the person."

Trip looked again at his baby brother. Pete continued to smile up at his Papa. But then the smile disappeared; the boy's face scrunched up in pain and he began to wail.

"Vince!" Peter called. "Get the—"

"Teething ring," Vince finished for him, "coming right up."

Elaine, meanwhile, made her way over to Trip, scowling. It was eerie how much that scowl resembled their mother's.

"Twip! Wan' go home!" She raised her little hands over her ears to block out the noise.

"Play date's over," Vince Faraday the Third observed. "Don't worry; Mom should be picking us up soon."

"Why's your bwother so loud?" she moaned. (She accepted that the brother of her brother was not her sibling, even though she had no idea how that worked.)

"He's in pain. His teeth are coming in; you remember what it was like when your teeth were growing?" The little girl stared back at him blankly. "Of course you don't." _She probably thinks she behaved like a little angel._

~VF~

_Three years later:_

"You're kidding," Vince said, staring at Peter.

"No, I'm not. See for yourself," he handed the newspaper to the younger man.

"They're making a movie about me?" The vigilante's expression was somewhere between confused and ecstatic.

"Don't flatter yourself. They're making a movie about the comic book you copied from." He sneered, as if saying, _whereas I didn't have to steal my idea._

"Graphic novel," Vince corrected him automatically.

"Same difference," the billionaire maintained. "I suppose the kids will want to see it when it comes out."

"I don't know about Pete, but Trip won't. He's not too fond of the Cape anymore."

"That is because teenagers' parents aren't allowed to be 'cool.' He'll get over it," _he still loves you_. "You're still his father. Make him take his brother to the movie."

"Because ordering him around will make me seem cool?"

"No, because that way he'll have an excuse for seeing the movie, which he'll no doubt secretly want to see anyway."

"What makes you say that?" the hero asked.

"I say that because instead of hiding copies of _Playboy_ under his bed like normal teenage males, he's stashing copies of that comic book," Peter sighed. "He's like you: Once a nerd, always a nerd."

"Hey, watch who you're calling a nerd, chess boy!"

"I call it like I see it. Just because you, Vincent, were popular in grade school—"

"While poor little Fleming must've been teased mercilessly by his peers."

"Don't be absurd. The heathens I went to school with were not my peers."

"Poor Peter," Vince slung an arm around the brunette's shoulder. "I'll bet you were cute as a kid."

"Something like Pete, I suppose," Fleming replied, "except he's had the good fortune to have inherited your smaller ears, so perhaps he won't be tormented when he starts school in September."

"So long as you don't push him to play chess," Faraday teased.

"I won't, if you'll agree not to push him to play American football in a few years."

"He's just starting kindergarten. High school's a long way off," the former high school quarterback pointed out.

"It'll go quickly, and you didn't give me an answer."

"Oh, alright, you have a deal. We will let Pete make his own decisions." Vince frowned as the doorbell rang. "Were we expecting company?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I'll go see who it is." He walked down the hall to check. "It's Jamie!" Vince heard a few moments later. "And her husband," Peter eventually added as an afterthought.

Once they were all settled comfortably in the living area and had gotten the greetings and small talk out of the way, Jamie said she had an announcement to make.

"I'm pregnant!" she grinned.

"That's great! Congratulations to both of you!" Vince exclaimed, first hugging Jamie and then fist-bumping Rollo. "Isn't that great, Peter?" Vince added, when he realized he hadn't heard anything from his spouse. He turned to look at him.

Peter was glaring daggers at his son-in-law. Vince had a feeling that, with the simple additions of a mask and a pair of contacts, you would have precisely the last image that Chess' victims ever saw.

Rollo remained unperturbed.

"Yes, wonderful news," Peter gritted out. "Congratulations!"

~VF~

"I don't get your reaction earlier today," Vince said as the two headed for bed that evening. "I thought you would have been looking forward to being a grandfather."

"I was—I am," he sighed. "I just didn't think Jarl would be the child's father. I thought Jamie might have left him for someone else. She could have done better, you know."

"She's happy with Rollo," Vince countered. "She wants you to be happy for them."

"…Then I will be."

"What about the becoming a grandfather thing—you worried it will make you seem old?" the blonde asked.

Peter decided to hold off on pointing out that the birth would also make Vince a grandfather by marriage.

"Old? I am hardly old, Faraday. I'm certainly not too old to do this." And with that, he mashed their lips together, as his hands started trailing along the hero's body.

**Author's Note: And we'll end the chapter there, where we can still keep the T rating.**

**Thanks to IronAmerica for reviewing! And thanks to those who have added the story to your alert list!**

**Chapter title is from Rodgers & Hammerstein's "Ten Minutes Ago."**

**I'd like to take this opportunity to encourage you to visit the- cape- meme dot livejournal dot com (no spaces). Leave prompts, fills, browse, enjoy!**


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